


You Might

by unadrift



Series: SGA Season Five Tags [4]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Episode Related, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-28
Updated: 2009-11-28
Packaged: 2017-10-03 22:28:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unadrift/pseuds/unadrift
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodney pored over the files he'd printed out. With every page he turned, this trip felt less and less like a sensible idea. Rodney had no trouble imagining the response he would get when he walked up to Sheppard, a <i>millionaire</i>, and suggested, 'Hey, how about you drop everything, leave your business and your huge mansion, and come with us to another galaxy, where you're probably going to die within a month or two? Are you in?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Might

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU, starting from a missing scene for _The Daedalus Variations_. Beta'd by tacittype and naye.

When Rodney, in his endless ingenuity, figured out a way to get the Daedalus back to their own reality, it didn't seem enough to just announce this to the team over the radio. He made his way to the bridge, tablet in hand.

"Alright, I think I've got something," he said, or rather, that was what he had intended to say. The ship started shaking, and Rodney felt the drive engage in the middle of the sentence.

The searing white flash faded and Sheppard blinked several times. "Rodney?"

"That was fast," Rodney observed and accessed the data on the tablet.

"Yes, we noticed. But is it a _problem_?"

"I don't think so, but give me a goddamn minute and let me work," Rodney muttered. Surprisingly, Sheppard did.

"Where are we now?" Ronon asked, staring out the main window. Rodney looked up briefly and followed his eyes. The asteroid field was gone, with a planet in its place again.

An alarm sounded from the tactical station. Teyla moved over to it quickly, before Rodney could even form the idea of crossing the bridge to have a look. "A jumper approaches," she said and switched the scan results over to Sheppard's workstation.

Rodney had to admit that her sudden proficiency with technology made him a little uncomfortable. "What? With another us on board?" He leaned over Sheppard's shoulder to study the screen.

"That would be a safe bet." Sheppard shot him a thank-you-for-stating-the-obvious look. "They didn't take long."

"Maybe their jumper was already in orbit around the planet?" Teyla suggested.

Sheppard nodded slowly. "Okay. Rodney, how long until we jump again?"

Trust Sheppard to ask the trickiest questions. "I don't even know why we jumped so soon in the first place! Just like I told you before, I can't predict the exact--"

"The condensed version, please," Sheppard interrupted him with a pointed look.

Rodney rolled his eyes. "We should have fifteen more minutes here at least."

"They'll have boarded us by then," Ronon said.

"Well, we can't have that." Sheppard activated the communication system. "This is Colonel John Sheppard aboard the Daedalus. Do not board this ship. Repeat, do not try to board this ship."

There was a pause, then the radio crackled. "This is Colonel Edwards of Atlantis. May I ask who you--"

"You're from _Earth_, aren't you?" another voice cut in. "Oh, thank god, you've come to rescue us! And not a minute too late! The Hive ships will be on top of us in two days--"

"Wait, is that me?" Rodney said, pointing a finger at the ship on the screen.

"Huh," the voice answered after a moment, and then, "No. It's me. Hey-- are you me?"

Rodney remembered Rod, and his dead counterpart a few decks below, and he felt creeped out and relieved at the same time. "No," he said. "I'm me!"

"You sound like me."

Well, that was rich, coming from an alternate reality copy. "_You_ sound like _me_!" Rodney shouted back.

"As fascinating as this conversation is," Sheppard cut in, clearly annoyed, "we're calling to warn you. As you might have noticed, we're from an alternate universe. This ship jumps between realities and we can't control it. If you come aboard, you'll be stuck with us."

"An alternate universe," Edwards repeated.

"Oh, an alternate reality drive," the other Rodney said brightly. "That is amazing. I always suspected that something like this could be built."

"No, you didn't," Rodney huffed. "Unfortunately, I-- we-- _he_ screwed up. The Rodney McKay who built this." It was almost painful to say it out loud.

"Oh." The other Rodney seemed to share his distress.

"And now we keep shifting between realities. Which isn't half as much fun as you'd expect."

The alternate Rodney's snort was audible over the comm. "I wouldn't expect that to be fun at all."

"There you have it!"

"McKay!" Sheppard said warningly.

"What?" Rodney and his counterpart answered in unison, and yes, it was slightly creepy to hear his own voice in tandem with, well, his own voice.

"May I ask who you are, Colonel?" Edwards sounded impatient. "And where did this ship come from? The Prometheus was destroyed two years ago."

"Does this mean that you've re-established contact to Earth in your universe?" the other Rodney cut in. "How? It's been almost a year and we haven't found anything that might--"

"Stop," Rodney said. "Stop. What do you mean, almost _a year_? We're well into our fifth year in Pegasus."

There was a moment of silence, then Edwards asked, "I guess the expedition wasn't postponed twice in your-- your universe?"

"Postponed?" Sheppard exchanged a glance with Rodney. "No. Yours was?"

"Yes. We had some trouble with the Ancient gene."

"Or the lack thereof," the alternate Rodney added. "They wouldn't let us embark without a gene carrier with a certain level of control over the Ancient technology."

Rodney frowned. They'd had a carrier served to them on a silver platter in their universe. "So you haven't met John Sheppard, ATA wonderboy, then?"

"Don't you _listen_? We've never heard of him."

Sheppard had gone disturbingly quiet. Rodney could relate. He had difficulty imagining an Atlantis without Sheppard, too. The tablet in Rodney's hand beeped.

"Now _you_ listen, our time's almost up. When you get back to Earth, find John Sheppard. S-H-E-P-P-A-R-D. He'll be a-- a major in the Air Force, probably. He's got a brother named Dave. His father owns some kind of big business. It's a-- a--" He gestured at Sheppard, who just sat there, staring at him.

"_Sheppard Utilities_," Ronon supplied.

"Yes. _Sheppard Utilities_. Find John Sheppard. Convince him to join. You need him. You really, really need him."

"Are you serious?" the other Rodney asked. "You're serious!"

"Very." The alternate Rodney had _no idea_ how serious. "Stun him and drag him with you if you must."

Sheppard made an _as if_ kind of face, but strangely didn't protest. Rodney looked down at his tablet. The capacitor was 99 percent charged.

"There are Hive ships approaching our position," Colonel Edwards reminded them. "This is the least of our--"

"You'll get through that." Rodney waved his free hand dismissively. "We did, too."

"Just remember this," Teyla said. "It is possible to turn the city's shield into a cloak, as easily as one can turn a jumper's cloak into a shield."

The last thing Rodney saw before everything went blindingly white was her self-satisfied smile.

* * *

Rodney blinked, and the ship was gone. This was just their luck. A seemingly abandoned spaceship (albeit a little scorched) appeared on their doorstep just when they needed it the most. Of course it turned out to be jumping uncontrollably between alternate universes.

"That was different," Edwards said and steered the gateship back towards the planet in a wide arc. "You're going to write up this report, McKay."

Rodney snorted. "I'll put it on my agenda, right after _Have life sucked out by Wraith_."

"Was that my voice?" Teyla moved to stand behind the pilot's seat.

"That depends." Rodney raised his eyebrows at her. "Do you know what you were talking about?"

"No," she admitted.

"Then it probably wasn't you."

Teyla tilted her head. She looked like she was trying to find a flaw in his logic – which was impossible, of course. "I see your point. Although there seem to have been significant differences between our universes even on first glance."

"Yeah. Why shouldn't she know about this stuff in another universe?" Ford asked from the backseat.

It said a lot about the things they'd seen in the Pegasus galaxy that none of them batted an eye at the mention of alternate realities.

"Okay, fine," Rodney said. "Let's get back to the city and see what we can do with your precious piece of information. It didn't sound completely useless."

The Daedalus appeared on Atlantis's sensors again an hour later. Before they had a chance to get their hopes up or a jumper in the air, the signal was gone again.

Two days later Teyla's 'precious piece of information' saved their collective asses from the Wraith, and of course Rodney claimed that he had recognized its limitless value right from the beginning.

Rodney almost choked in surprise when he laid eyes on the Daedalus for the first time – because it was actually the second time. Their Daedalus was a lot shinier than the alternate one. So their universe was on a different time schedule. Who cared? Against all odds, they were _alive_, and in possession of one beautiful, sufficiently charged ZPM. Even though Rodney was dead on his feet already, he managed to work for another day on the power distribution systems before Elizabeth had Carson sedate him for twenty-two hours of uninterrupted sleep, which, yes, turned out to be complete bliss. When Rodney re-joined the land of the conscious, people were still walking around in a disbelieving _why-are-we-even-alive_ daze, and Jesus, everyone should just get a grip already.

Earth was suddenly only one gate trip away – an opportunity that Rodney was forced to seize. He grudgingly accompanied Edwards, Elizabeth, and Carson to brief the IOA.

Actually, the others went to brief the IOA. Rodney had other plans.

He tried hard to convince them, but their superiors were not partial to the idea of a wild goose chase for a total stranger to bring him into the program. Not even Elizabeth backed him up. Maybe this was due to the fact that the information had originated from a two minute radio conversation with a McKay from an alternate reality.

Well, _Rodney_ had faith in himself.

The IT security at the SGC was a joke, at least by Rodney's standards, and by the end of the last day of neverending briefings Rodney had gotten all the information he needed – even more than that. Sam Carter was distracted enough by Rodney's cleverly orchestrated advances that she didn't notice the empty space on her lab table where a piece of Ancient technology had been a minute before. It was small enough to fit in Rodney's pocket. He passed the security check by being extremely unpleasant, so that the guards wanted to be rid of him as soon as possible. It wasn't much of a challenge and it worked like a charm.

Rodney didn't enlighten the SGC about his destination. They had granted him three weeks of leisure time and assumed that he wanted to spend them lazing around on a beach somewhere, or arguing with his sister. He really didn't. Instead, he booked a flight to Washington and stuffed everything he needed into a single backpack. Rodney had never been one for traveling light, but Atlantis seemed to have changed him in ways he hadn't anticipated.

Several thousand meters above the ground Rodney pored over the files he'd printed out. The first page was a photograph of a handsome man in his late thirties, with unruly dark hair, and eyes that were listed as 'hazel' in his personal data. But actually, the color wasn't anything Rodney could define, no matter from what angle he squinted at the picture. Sheppard was wearing a black suit and an almost-smirk. It was easy to imagine him in uniform. Rodney knew enough flyboys to recognize the cocky, laid-back attitude even from a snapshot like this. He put the picture aside.

With every new page he turned, this trip felt less and less like a sensible idea. In this universe, John Sheppard had never joined the Air Force. He had had a brother named Dave, but he had died in a car crash at the age of fourteen. Sheppard, aged seventeen, had been driving. After college, Sheppard had gotten his masters in mathematics and economics and joined the family business. When his father had remarried and retired to Hawaii five years ago, Sheppard had taken over the family business. The big, successful family business. Sheppard managed to increase the annual turnover by a two digit percentage in the course of three years. It was quite impressive.

Rodney had no trouble imagining the response he would get when he walked up to Sheppard, a _millionaire_, and suggested, "Hey, how about you drop everything, leave your business and your huge mansion, and come with us to another galaxy, where you're probably going to die within a month or two? Are you in?" But Rodney was on the plane already, and Washington didn't have anything else to offer for him. He might as well try and see what it was they supposedly needed so desperately from John Sheppard.

* * *

Meeting John Sheppard turned out to be a much bigger challenge than Rodney had expected. He didn't even manage to get past the threshold of the horrible example of modern architecture that was the four story home office of _Sheppard Utilities_. Well, he got as far as the receptionist – Mrs Denton, her name plate read. With her tight bun and the conservative big glasses she made Rodney feel like a third grader again. He was defenseless against her reprimanding so-you-do-not-have-an-appointment stare.

"Fine," he said. "_Give_ me an appointment then."

"On what matter?"

For a moment Rodney entertained the thought of filling her in, in detail, about everything. Her face would be priceless, but so would the sight of him being dragged out of the building in a straight jacket. "It's personal."

"This is a _business_," she emphasized slowly, exactly like she was talking to a seven year old.

Rodney managed to stare her down. He was quite pleased with himself.

"The first open slot is on May 13, at ten thirty a.m. Shall I pencil you in?" she asked with practised politeness.

"May?! That's in three months! Seriously, the man can't be that busy."

She opened her mouth, no doubt to say something very polite.

"Oh, forget it. Thanks a lot for your help," Rodney said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Any time," she answered, not smiling.

Rodney found a parking space labeled _J. Sheppard_ by the side of the building. It was currently occupied by a classy black Mercedes Benz. Spotting a small coffee shop on the opposite side of the street, Rodney risked using the restroom, leaving the car unobserved for a few minutes, then got himself a cup of coffee and a muffin, and settled down on a chair by the window to wait for Sheppard to emerge.

For three hours nothing memorable happened – except for the citrus cake assassination attempt, the annoying brat spilling her cocoa over Rodney's backpack, and the brunette bimbo who tricked him into paying her tab (one moccachino and a croissant).

He was on his fifth cup of coffee and seriously considering another restroom break when Sheppard pushed through the doors of the main entrance.

Rodney barely noticed the cars that honked at him repeatedly as he crossed the street at a run. "John Sheppard?" The man turned to Rodney with his hand on the open car door. Wow, he looked even more striking than his photos had. The pin-striped suit with the green tie looked good on him. It was really unfair – rich _and_ good-looking.

Sheppard's eyes narrowed. "Tell Friedman no matter how many lawyers he sends after me, I'm not going to sell any part of my business to him. Tell him to fuck off. You may use those exact words."

"But, but, I'm not a--" Rodney started, but Sheppard was already in his car and on the street before he could even finish the sentence. Rodney looked down at himself. He didn't look like a lawyer. Since when did he look like a lawyer? He wasn't even wearing a tie.

Rodney hailed a taxi and even said, "Follow that car," which earned him a dubious look from the driver. "No, really," Rodney insisted, gesturing, "Follow the car. I mean it," and handed him a twenty. When they entered the freeway, Rodney had to tip the driver another fifty to match Sheppard's breakneck speed.

"You do not sue me in case of accident," the driver – his license read Dimitri – said.

"At this velocity I wouldn't live to do so," Rodney muttered.

Sheppard wasn't on his way home, that much was obvious soon enough. Rodney was glad that he'd gone for pursuit rather than trying to catch up with Sheppard at his house. The Mercedes pulled into a parking lot, and Rodney had the driver stop the taxi.

"It was interesting experience," Dimitri said, grinning.

"Yes, yes, and an expensive one, too." Rodney handed over another thirty dollars.

He followed Sheppard down two blocks and into a bar. Rodney had never been good at stealth, so he wasn't surprised when Sheppard said, without turning around on the bar stool, "I thought I made myself clear before."

"I'm not a lawyer. And I don't know who this-- this-- Friedberg is."

"Okay," Sheppard said. His voice clearly implied the unspoken _if you say so_.

Rodney sat down on the stool next to Sheppard's and caught the bartender's eye. "Give me a beer. A real beer, not this--" He gestured vaguely at Sheppard's glass.

The bartender raised his eyebrows at him. "Right. Real beer, coming up."

"Canadian, are you?" Sheppard said, sounding amused.

"Yes. How did you-- Never mind. Dr. Rodney McKay." He offered his hand.

Sheppard shook it with a firm grip. "Doctor?"

"In science, not medicine. Astrophysics and mechanical engineering."

"_Two_ doctorates. That's impressive."

"Yes, well, I'm a genius."

"And modest, too."

"And you're a comedian," Rodney said snidely. "Good for you." A glass was placed in front of him. Rodney took a sip.

Sheppard rested an elbow on the bar and turned to him. He had gotten rid of his tie at some point, and the first two buttons of his shirt were open. "Are you gonna tell me why you're stalking me?"

Rodney swallowed hastily. "Stalking? I am not stalking you!"

"You're following me around, what do you call it?"

It finally registered with Rodney that Sheppard looked _amused_ rather than pissed off. "Well, thank your receptionist for that. She refused to let me through."

Sheppard nodded seriously. "She would. Gladys is worth her weight in gold. Even though she really scares me most of the time."

"Tell me about it."

They shared a grin. Rodney couldn't remember the last time when he'd talked this non-awkwardly, this _easily_ to a stranger. It was weird.

Sheppard raised an inquisitive eyebrow at him. "So?"

"Oh. Yes. I've got something to discuss with you. An-- offer, if you will. But not here. Someplace a little more private?"

Sheppard just looked at him for a moment, assessing him with a piercing stare of his hazel – green? – eyes. He took another sip of his beer. "My house isn't far from here," he said slowly. "And I've got a car outside. But you knew that already, didn't you?"

"Yes," Rodney answered in a tone that said _Duh!_ quite loudly, too. "I do believe in careful preparation."

"That is a very useful quality, especially in certain situations," Sheppard said cryptically and smiled in a sort of-- distracting way.

Even though Sheppard had just spoken god's honest truth – and didn't Rodney know this from not dying repeatedly over the past year – Rodney couldn't really make sense of the remark. He shrugged it off as a Sheppardian oddity.

"Great!" Rodney said and meant it. He'd really get a chance to explain. This was going better than Rodney had expected. "Just excuse me for a minute. Too much coffee before." When he was half-way to the restrooms he turned back to the bar and pointed a finger at Sheppard. "Don't go away. Don't. I'll be right back."

Sheppard did the exact opposite of going away. Two minutes later he was standing next to the sink when Rodney washed his hands.

"It occurred to me that this could be considered more private," he said, smirking.

"Right," Rodney said and dried his hands. Because Sheppard _was_ right, and because Rodney had been dying to try this for days – hell, he'd been _dreaming_ about this – he suddenly couldn't wait a minute longer.

"Take this," Rodney said and held out the Ancient device to Sheppard on his open palm, "and think about where we are in the solar system."

Sheppard looked a little taken aback. "What?"

"Our position in the solar system? Come on, it's not that difficult."

Another thirty seconds went by, during which interesting things happened on Sheppard's face, before he actually reached out and took the object. Then it was instant, soundless symphony. The shabby restroom was lit with planets, moons, comets and their trajectories, rotating slowly, and illuminating Sheppard's face in a flattering blue.

Sheppard looked dazed. "Did I do that?"

"Oh my god," Rodney said, in awe. "It took Carson _a week_ to control this. A week!"

This was fantastic, this was the best thing ever, and Rodney had been so right, and Sheppard was what they needed, desperately, and Rodney could have kissed him for it. When the hologram faded out of existence, Rodney realized that he actually had. On the mouth. Sheppard looked even more dazed than before. "Uh, sorry," Rodney said, just a little panicky, and released his grip on Sheppard's arms. "It's just that this is-- You are--"

"What _was_ that?"

"It's a long story. And as nice as this location is, I'd suggest we continue this somewhere else."

Rodney took the device from him and shoved Sheppard in the direction of the door.

* * *

"Are you even fit to drive?" The thought came a little late, when Sheppard was already changing lanes like crazy on the freeway.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Oh, maybe because of your first intimate contact with alien technology?"

"_Alien_?" Sheppard's head jerked around to him. "You never said anything about alien!"

"Eyes on the road! Eyes on the road!" Rodney squeaked, and Sheppard narrowly missed running into another car.

"See?" Rodney said, pointing out the windshield. "That's what I mean! No more discussion of this until we're moving at less than ten miles per hour."

"Fine," Sheppard said in a careful, humor-the-crazy-guy tone. Rodney couldn't blame him, since aliens really were a lot to take in for the unsuspecting, normal guy off the street.

"Tell me something about you," Sheppard demanded then. "You seem to know an awful lot about me already."

"Okay," Rodney agreed, blinking at the sudden turn in their conversation. "If you must know, I am--"

"And _not_ about your academic career. I can look that up on the internet. About you."

"That's unfair. My information on you is purely professional, too."

"I like Ferris Wheels, college football, and everything that goes over two hundred miles per hour." Sheppard made a _so there_ gesture with his right hand.

"I'd never have guessed," Rodney muttered, which caused Sheppard to grin and put his foot down a little heavier on the gas.

"You're going to kill yourself like this one day," Rodney said and clawed his fingers into the arm rest. "I'd prefer it if you didn't take me with you. Really, thank you for not killing me!"

Sheppard went still. His jaw muscles were working restlessly as he clenched his teeth.

"Oh," Rodney said. "I didn't mean to-- I know the accident wasn't your fault."

Even the muscles in Sheppard's jaw stilled now. "How do you even _know_ about--" Sheppard hissed. For a moment Rodney expected him to slam on the brakes and throw Rodney out of the car, or maybe he wouldn't even slow down to do it.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to-- I-- Um. Careful preparation?" Rodney offered awkwardly. "And it's not like it's a state secret."

"Right," Sheppard said tightly. "Fine."

"So. Um. Why are you doing this?" Rodney gestured at the landmarks that rushed by outside with god knew how many miles per hour. "To challenge fate?"

Sheppard's lips twisted into a humorless smile and he relaxed his tight grip on the steering wheel. "Funny. Nancy always asks me the same thing."

Nancy? Rodney didn't remember reading about a Nancy in the files. "Your girlfriend?"

"No. She's my second in command in the business, so to speak." Sheppard cast him a curious glance. "Are you even aware of the fact that you practically picked me up in a gay bar half an hour ago?"

"Of c-- What?" Gay bar? Really? Rodney hadn't noticed. He frantically replayed their conversation in his head and decided that, yes, viewed from a certain angle, it could be interpreted that way. They'd even kissed. Sort of.

"Oh. _Oh._ You _let_ me pick you up. Even before you knew about-- Oh!" Now the cryptic remarks made sense, and the weird _looks_ Sheppard had given him. "But-- but why?"

"Why not? You seemed like an interesting guy. You have gorgeous eyes. And a great ass."

"Um," Rodney said.

"You're straight, aren't you?"

"Actually-- yes."

"Shame," Sheppard said.

* * *

The Sheppard mansion wasn't even a mansion. It was more like a normal house, really. Rodney would have expected it to be bigger and spacier and a lot less welcoming than it seemed when they entered. Rodney followed Sheppard into the living room.

"Do you want a drink?" Sheppard asked. "God knows I need one."

"Just give me whatever you're having."

Rodney scanned the room, and his eyes were immediately drawn to the painting over the fireplace. It showed a fighter plane in flight. A _painting_ of a _fighter plane_. Air Force, Rodney thought. In another universe Sheppard had joined the Air Force.

Framed photographs were on display on the mantlepiece. Rodney walked closer. A faded wedding picture, probably of John's parents. A family of four in front of the great pyramids in Gizeh. Two smiling boys in what was obviously a self-portrait. The angle was a little off – Dave's chin hadn't quite made it into the picture.

"My brother." Sheppard handed Rodney a glass. "Fourteen is much too young to die," he said, with a carefully blank expression, and downed his drink.

There was nothing Rodney could add to that statement. He didn't do deep and meaningful, but he didn't do shallow, either. "You're a pilot?" he asked instead, pointing at the next photograph.

A small smile tugged on the corners of Sheppard's mouth. "Yes. I'm a pilot."

"Flying what? Company planes?"

As fast as the smile had appeared, it was wiped off Sheppard's face again. "Nothing." Sheppard didn't take his eyes off the photograph of him in front of a small plane – a Cessna? "Not since I-- Not anymore."

"I see," Rodney said, and he did. There wasn't much time for hobbies when you were running a company that operated world-wide. And somewhere, in some alternate reality, under different circumstances, a John Sheppard had made his _entire life_ about flying.

Sheppard tore his eyes away from the picture and turned to Rodney again. "I believe there was a story you wanted to tell me."

When Rodney sat down on the sofa, with Sheppard's attention focused on him, he didn't know where to begin. He put the Ancient image projector on the coffee table between them and figured that the Ancients and the origin of humanity were as good a place to start as any.

Revisiting the first year of their expedition, let alone the history of the entire stargate program, didn't go as smoothly and linearly as Rodney had planned. He should have made a flowchart, an Excel sheet, _something_. He kept forgetting things and had to insert them at a later time. To add to the confusion, Sheppard asked questions that steered them off path. Intelligent questions, even.

With his degrees and his current position it was a given that Sheppard couldn't be completely stupid, Rodney had known that from the start. But he was a lot more than not completely stupid. He could _identify large prime numbers_, which Rodney discovered while elaborating on the raging stupidity of his staff.

"Really," Rodney said, "Tell either of them 'forty-five thousand nine hundred and seventy-nine' and they stare at you as if you've grown another head."

"It's prime," Sheppard offered, shrugging.

It really, really wasn't fair for him to be rich, good-looking, _and_ smart. Life was such a bitch.

When Rodney's tale reached the encounter with the alternate reality Daedalus, everything was already a jumbled mess of information about people, places, and events Sheppard had never encountered, seen, or experienced, and he looked like his head might explode any moment.

"Wait. Alternate universes? That's it! We're taking a break." Sheppard rose from the sofa. "Are you hungry? This calls for pizza."

"I'm starving, actually," Rodney said, frowning. Sheppard seemed surprisingly untouched by this. "How can you think about food now?" And huh, Rodney hadn't expected that question to ever come out of his mouth.

"Easily. You could as well have re-told the first season of _Star Trek_ to me. It just-- doesn't feel real yet." Sheppard vanished into the kitchen. "Ask me again tomorrow. Is mushrooms, peppers, and salami okay with you?" he shouted.

For a moment Rodney felt like he was very slow on the uptake. Which he knew he _wasn't_. "Uh, yes. Just no citrus. I'm really deathly allergic to citrus!"

Sheppard stuck his head through the kitchen door, the phone already to his ear. "I'm pretty sure they don't put citrus on pizza-- Oh, hi, I want to place an order--" He vanished again and came back a few minutes later, wearing jeans and a faded t-shirt, and carrying two bottles. "Sorry, no real beer," he said unapologetically.

"Yes, well, one can't expect any taste from you Americans."

"So you don't want it, then? That's fine with me."

"Oh, for god's sake." Rodney grabbed the bottle from his hand.

Sheppard flopped down next to him on the sofa. "What do you want to do now?"

"What do you mean, what do I want to do now? Don't you want to know more about--"

"No. I've had enough for today. Really," Sheppard drank down half of his beer in one go. "It's a lot to take in."

"Oh. Okay. I should probably-- You know, go find a hotel then." Up to now Rodney hadn't even thought about where he was going to spend the night. That was disorganized, even for him.

"Don't be ridiculous," Sheppard said with surprising vehemence. "Our pizza is on the way, I assume that your backpack holds all your stuff, and I've got two guest rooms. You can even choose."

"I'm a total stranger and you'd let me stay at your house?"

"I've got a good feeling about you, Rodney," Sheppard said lightly, but his eyes suggested that he really wasn't joking.

"Um," Rodney said. "I could say the same about you. John." Which was true. He could. On some level, they _clicked_, and that never happened to Rodney. Rodney just didn't meet people he clicked with.

John flashed him a grin. "It gets even better. I've got _Star Trek_ on DVD."

"Oh, great!" Rodney rubbed his hands together in glee. This was _clicking_ on a cosmic level. "Bring it on."

When Horta had saved her children, their pizza arrived. Rodney insisted that he pay the delivery guy. It was the least he could do.

"Aww," John said as he pried the box open. "You're buying me dinner. I've been known to put out for less, you know."

Rodney just shot him a look. "As much fun as the classics are, have you got anything new?" he asked, gesturing at the TV with his piece of pizza. "I've been gone for a year."

"Sure." John put on _The Sarah Connor Chronicles_ and produced the bottle of scotch again.

They watched the pilot, then the credits were rolling, and the next thing Rodney knew, John was shaking him awake. "Rodney, come on. Let's get you to bed."

"Oh, but, um," was the pathetic extent of Rodney's protest. It was entirely possible that he'd had one glass too many of the scotch.

"Relax, your virtue is safe with me," John said, chuckling.

"You say that now, but once you've got me on a bed, you'll sing a different tune," Rodney mumbled, hanging heavily onto John's shoulder as they climbed the stairs. "You're still trying to get in my pants, aren't you?"

"Yes," John said honestly.

"Oh," Rodney said, not really awake enough to give that statement the answer it deserved – whatever that was.

Rodney flopped down on the bed in the guest room and let John tug off his shoes. When John tried to start on the buttons of Rodney's shirt, Rodney batted his hands away. "Cut that out! I can undress myself." His fingers struggled with the complicated mechanism, and he frowned in concentration. "Have been doing so since I was five."

"Okay," John said, clearly amused, and stepped back. "Goodnight, Rodney." He closed the door behind him.

* * *

It must have been the smell of coffee that had woken Rodney up, because it wasn't even eight o'clock yet when he ambled down the stairs, with a headache as if a rhino had tapdanced on his forehead while he'd been sleeping. He found John cluttering up the kitchen.

"You look like hell," Rodney observed and headed straight for the coffee pot.

"Good morning to you too," John answered sarcastically. "You're no shining beauty yourself."

Rodney snorted. Right. As if he ever was. "Did you sleep at all last night?"

"Not much. I kept thinking about comets on collision course, out-of-control singularities, life-sucking aliens, and how close we've all come to dying. Repeatedly." He sounded just that little bit accusing.

"Welcome to my world," Rodney said unsympathetically and took a sip of the delicious coffee.

"Oh, it's great to be here," John answered moodily. "I'd be tempted to call you a liar and get some undisturbed sleep tonight, if I hadn't seen that image projector thing. Come here and chop this."

Rodney hadn't cooked himself a meal in-- forever. But handling a knife should come back naturally. Maybe? "Okay. But I'm holding you responsible for any serious injury originating from this task."

John raised an eyebrow at him. "We're preparing an omelet, not disarming a bomb."

"Well, a bomb would be _easy_."

When John got out the frying pan, Rodney started rummaging through the cupboards. He opened a drawer in search for forks and found-- something. He held it up. "Do you even know what this is for?"

"Oh for-- Here, you watch the omelet, I'll set the table," John said, visibly fighting a smile. "And for your information, this is a garlic crusher."

In the end, when Rodney shoveled the omelet onto their plates, it looked more like scrambled eggs than anything else.

"I warned you," Rodney said defensively.

"Not exactly. But I should have seen it coming when you almost chopped off your thumb."

"Funny. Don't you have to go to work today?" Rodney grumbled.

"I called in sick. More coffee?"

"That is a rhetorical question, right?"

They ate and even cleared the dishes away afterwards. Leaning on the kitchen counter, John watched Rodney gulp down two aspirin followed by his third cup of coffee. "I've learned that you're addicted to coffee, deathly allergic to citrus, and that you like _Star Trek_. What else is there to know about you? Family? Spouse?"

"Wouldn't you rather-- You must have a million questions about--" Rodney made a vague sky-ward gesture.

"Yes, I do. Made a list, actually. But I want to hear about you first."

"Really? Why?" If Rodney had the choice between hearing about the secrets of the universe and hearing about Rodney McKay, the secrets of the universe would win, hands down. But then again, Rodney knew himself already. "Wait-- You made _a list_?"

"I can fetch it later. Stop changing the topic." John crossed his arms in determination.

"Okay, fine." Rodney ticked the points off on his fingers. "Both my parents died over ten years ago. I've got a sister in Vancouver. There's no spouse now and no spouse-to-be in sight. I save Atlantis every day and twice on Sundays, and I never even get a 'thank you'. My science team calls me Dr. McKay to my face and 'that asshole' behind my back. I don't know what my friends call me because I don't have any. End of presentation."

John tilted his head thoughtfully. "That doesn't sound like you're happy there."

It really didn't, Rodney realized. The thought had never even occurred to him. "Well, I'm-- a lot less unhappy on Atlantis than I was on Earth. That has to count for something." God, even to his own ears that sounded incredibly depressing. And it didn't exactly sell the idea of moving to the Pegasus galaxy.

"I'd imagine your friends would call you Rodney," John said finally.

Rodney pondered this. "You do."

That was a start.

* * *

"You know what I can't figure out?" John handed Rodney The List, which consisted of three sheets of paper. The first question on the first page had been underlined twice with a red marker and read 'Why me?'.

"If this gene is so rare, how did you know that I'm a carrier?" John settled down onto the sofa next to Rodney. "You _stalked me_. Don't tell me you didn't know for sure."

"Not for sure. I strongly suspected. If you'd let me continue with the alternate reality story yesterday, you'd already know."

"So? Get on with it?"

"Okay. This may sound a little weird, but there was a John Sheppard on the alternate reality Daedalus. I heard his voice. Your voice. "

"Right," John said slowly. "That _is _ weird. Did I-- did _he_ say how he ended up in another galaxy?"

Rodney hesitated. "Apparently, in their universe your brother is alive, and you-- their John Sheppard joined the Air Force."

John stared at the photograph on the mantlepiece, then at the painting above it. "Yeah. He would have."

"His gene is strong. Your gene. Much stronger than in anyone we have ever tested, from what I've seen so far. My counterpart said that we needed you, and I knew that I wouldn't lie to myself."

John made a face. "This alternate reality thing seriously freaks me out."

Rodney found it-- intriguing. "I think it's kind of-- cool?"

"Cool?" John repeated. "You know, coming out of your mouth, that sounds really-- uncool. Interesting."

"Oh, funny. I don't see why--" Rodney was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell. "Are you expecting--" He was stopped by John's pointed look. "Of course you're not expecting anyone."

John went to get the door. He said, "Nancy? What are you doing here?" just loud enough for Rodney to understand. Of course Rodney tip toed around the corner to steal a glance at her.

"You haven't called in sick in five years. I figured for that to happen you must practically be on your death bed." Nancy was an attractive woman in her mid-thirties. She was wearing a business suit, and her long brown hair was tied back into a ponytail. She eyed John curiously. "But as it turns out--"

"Yeah, I know. I'm sorry. I--"

Rodney had never been good at hide and seek, so naturally she spotted him behind the potted plant. "Oh. _Oh!_" she said, and raised a hand at him. "Hi, I'm Nancy."

"Um, hi," Rodney said, waving back awkwardly. "Rodney."

John glared at him. "Nancy, this isn't what it looks like. Really."

She grinned mischievously. "Oh, I hope this is _exactly_ what it looks like. I'll leave you two to it, then." She kissed him on the cheek. "John, you're allowed to live a little. Nice meeting you, Rodney!"

John closed the door behind her.

"So, um, that was Nancy?" Rodney asked.

"Yes, that was Nancy. Who now thinks that I skipped work in favor of fucking you senseless."

Rodney didn't bat an eyelid at that. "She doesn't seem to mind."

"Well, _I_ mind."

"Hey, I'm not that bad a catch."

John's mouth opened and closed a few times without a sound coming out. "Your ego is really something. It's a miracle you both fit in the same room. Don't you care what she thinks? You're straight!"

"And I'll probably never meet her again, so why worry?"

John made a frustrated sound and stalked up the stairs.

Rodney counted this one as a win before he realized that he didn't even know what kind of competition they were in.

* * *

Rodney looked up from his laptop and almost breathed a sigh of relief when John appeared in the living room door again. He wasn't looking pissed off anymore, more like-- withdrawn? A little wary?

"We're going out tonight," Rodney announced to him. "Uh, you don't mind me using your wireless, do you?"

If Rodney had taken a minute to think about it – which he didn't – he would have had to ponder the astonishing extent to which he'd made himself at home in a stranger's house barely twenty-four hours after meeting him.

"My wireless?" John asked. "But that's protected by a--"

Rodney raised his eyebrows at him.

"Never mind. What do you mean, we're going out? As in a date?"

"No, as in going to the symphony and then having something to eat. I haven't been to the symphony in over a year."

"And you figured that, naturally, I'd be totally on board with the symphony," John said sarcastically.

"No, but I figured you'd be totally on board with the steak and the beer you're going to get afterwards."

"If you put it that way. What exactly do you have in mind?"

Two hours later, showered and changed, they were almost ready to head towards DC. When John casually walked down the stairs, Rodney stared openly. John was wearing a goddamn _tuxedo_, and it looked _fantastic_ on him.

"It's the symphony. We're supposed to dress up, aren't we?" John said, smirking.

Rodney finally managed to pick his jaw off the floor. "Nonono," he protested. "I didn't even bring a suit! I'd look like a tramp next to you. Go, change into something less-- less--" _Gorgeous_, Rodney thought, but he would bite his tongue off before he'd say it.

John took pity on him. "Okay, fine. Be back in a sec."

Why did Rodney have the feeling that John had arranged this fashion show on purpose?

So, _another_ change of clothes later, they actually were on their way to DC. Rodney had offered to call a cab for them, but John wouldn't have it. Fortunately, he behaved himself on the road this time, apart from fiddling with the radio a lot.

"Keep your eyes on the road!" Rodney batted John's hand away from the controls for the third time. "You know," he said thoughtfully, "it's funny how little we talk about Atlantis. There are a million things you need to--"

"Not tonight, okay?" John interrupted, glancing over at him. "Can't this be-- just us?"

Rodney studied his profile for a moment. "Okay," he said.

He'd like that, actually.

* * *

"So, what do you think?"

"About the music or the steak?" John asked and downed the last of his beer.

"The music, of course. I was able to observe how much you liked the steak."

"If that was a quip about my table manners?" He pointed at a sauce stain on Rodney's shirt. "I'm not taking it seriously."

Rodney rolled his eyes. "Your table manners are excellent. No quip intended. Now will you enlighten me on your opinion about the symphony?"

"It was-- really intense. I liked it."

"Intense. That's a good way to describe it, actually, if you need to restrict yourself to one-word sentences."

With that perfect intensity still vibrating in his bones and an excellent meal in his stomach, Rodney didn't expect the evening to get any better. Then the waiter offered them coffee.

"No, thank you," John declined. "Let's take a walk."

"But--"

"Rodney. It's such a nice night, and the fresh air will be good for you."

John made puppy-dog eyes at him, and Rodney was lost. He paid the tab and let himself be steered outside by the elbow. "Do you know where you can shove your fresh air?" he grumbled.

John didn't rise to the bait, just smiled to himself, and shoved his hands in his pockets.

It _was_ a nice night. Rodney could even make out a few stars overhead. John followed his gaze.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Uh, yes? Of course? I've been waiting for you to finally crack and _drown_ me in questions."

"You don't strike me as either the selfless hero-type or the daring adventurer. You knew there was a good chance you'd never come back from Atlantis. Why did you go?"

This wasn't the kind of question Rodney had expected to hear, and not the kind of question he was fully prepared to answer. "Um, to expand human knowledge?"

"Right." John didn't sound convinced. "That's the press-release version. Truth?"

"I used to play the piano," Rodney said after a moment of silence. Strangely, John didn't seem irritated by the sudden change of topic. "Until my teacher informed me that my technical capability would never compensate my lack of soul. I realize now what an irresponsible thing that was to say to a kid, and that this was really just _his_ opinion. But I gave up playing on the same day. Today I wish I hadn't."

"You could take it up again."

"Okay, a) there are no pianos on Atlantis, unless they are still hidden in as yet unexplored parts of the city, which would be plain _weird_, and b) that's not the point. When I agreed to join the mission, that was me doing something that I wasn't absolutely _sure_ I could do. It was-- an opportunity to be _more_. If that makes sense to you?"

"Yeah," John said quietly and met his eyes. "It does."

Oh, Rodney thought. John wasn't lying. He did understand. John had probably wanted to step out into the unknown for as long as he had dreamed of flying, had wanted to be more than what was expected of him since the day it had been clear that he could never be.

The sense of connection warmed Rodney from the inside out, and their eye contact wasn't broken until Rodney almost walked into a lamppost. He cleared his throat, looking ahead now. "Plus," he added brightly, "I _really_ want to expand human knowledge."

John chuckled. "Okay, I believe you."

"Really!"

"You're going for a Nobel, admit it."

"Well, isn't that the logical conclusion of trying to expand human knowledge?"

"If you want it to be, of course."

"Quit mocking me. I do more for the progress of science in a month than any researcher here on Earth within a year."

"Did _nothing_ hold you on Earth?"

Rodney had thought about that in Atlantis, whenever they hadn't been one wrong decision away from painful death. About the things he missed, which were mostly food-related, like coffee or chocolate, or pop culture-related, like new TV. About the things he didn't miss, like people, mostly. "Not really."

They walked in comfortable silence for a few minutes, until John asked, "So was it worth it?"

"Considering the things I've seen? Of course! The Ancient technology alone--" Rodney might have drifted off into a rant then, but John didn't seem to mind, throwing in 'Uh-huh's, 'Cool's, and 'But is that even possible?'s in all the right places.

By the time they reached the car, Rodney had explained the general workings of a ZPM to John, and praised the wonder that was the personal shield device. He saved the gateships for the drive. John was as impressed as Rodney had hoped he would be.

It was barely eleven when they reached the house.

With the key already in the lock John turned to Rodney at the front door, eyes twinkling. "So, I'm curious: This was different from a date-- how exactly?"

"I had fun?" Rodney offered after a moment.

"You're kind of pathetic," John observed, but he sounded amused. He unlocked the door.

"That's not exactly a newsflash. But thank you for mentioning it."

"You're welcome. You know what would make this evening perfect?"

"What?" Rodney asked warily, imagining all kinds of x-rated answers.

"Tribbles," John said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"When you're right, you're right," Rodney answered, grinning, and headed for the living room.

* * *

A home shopping channel was flickering over the TV screen when Rodney jerked awake. Something tickled his chin. Oh. John's hair. John was slumped comfortably against Rodney's side, his arm draped around Rodney's waist. Rodney himself had drifted a little to port and was half lying across the sofa. He breathed in deeply and, without meaning to, he tightened his arm around John's shoulder. When had he put it there?

Rodney had to admit that he was comfortable enough like this to go right back to sleep. Then John stirred and lifted his head. Their faces were only inches apart when he blinked his eyes open, and suddenly Rodney had trouble breathing.

"Are you sure you're straight?" John whispered.

"Um." Rodney licked his lips nervously. "Not so much anymore."

"Thank god," John said and kissed him.

John's lips were soft, but the stubble on his cheek felt weird under Rodney's palm. He was on the verge of deciding whether it was good weird or bad weird, when the sound John made deep in his throat tipped the scales in favor of 'good' faster than Rodney could get his hand under John's shirt.

This was like making out as a teenager had been, with the pleasure times a million. No. No, it had _never_ been like this, never felt that good to have a hand glide up his neck and into his hair (what was left of it), to have a tongue sweep out over his lower lip, to open up and meet it with his own.

He'd never gotten this hard this fast either.

Rodney broke away, in need of air. "Definitely not straight," he mumbled into John's neck and breathed in deeply – really, John had no right to smell this good.

John slid his palm against Rodney's pants. "I noticed."

"Ngnh," Rodney said and almost came there and then.

"This is such a turn-on." John's voice sounded hoarse and strained.

Rodney just had to pull back and _see_ the want on John's face, in his dilated pupils, in the way he reached out for Rodney immediately and moved in to get closer again, covering him, rubbing his cock against Rodney's through layers of clothing. Clothing that Rodney wanted to be _gone_ right now.

"Can we-- can we--" Rodney didn't care about the trouble he suddenly exhibited forming complete sentences, because John was kissing his neck, _licking_ his neck. "Move this to a bed?" he finally managed.

John looked up at him. "Are you sure?"

Rodney was sure he didn't appreciate being fed the virgin-on-her-prom-date line, even though it was kind of considerate. "At the moment I'm about as sure as I can be," he said, rolling his eyes.

For some reason John found either the statement or the eye-rolling incredibly amusing. He pulled Rodney up from the sofa and kissed him again, deep and frantic and messy, with smiling lips.

The trip up the stairs was about as much of an adventure as Rodney's last city exploration expedition had been. Miraculously, they reached the top without having fallen on their asses once. They even lacked some of their clothing already, and Rodney possibly a bit of his sanity, too.

A chest without breasts was _weird_. But it was the good weird, too, Rodney decided when he licked a nipple and John let out a needy desperate sound.

John groaned, his fingers tightening in Rodney's hair. "Here. Wait. I can't-- Let me--"

Rodney was pushed against a wall-- or a door-- whatever-- who cared? He was too busy enjoying more kissing to notice that John was working his pants open. From one moment to the next, John's mouth was gone, Rodney's pants were tugged down to his knees, and his thoughts got as far as 'Oh my god, he's going to--' and then the feeling of John's mouth on his cock ignited fireworks, naqadah bombs, fucking _stars_ in his head.

Rodney came, and his world whited out.

"Wow," he mumbled and blindly reached out for John, who tasted like come and smugness. Rodney was surprised that this combination turned him on beyond reason.

"Bed," John finally said and tugged him along. Rodney stumbled and cursed. He had to get rid of his pants first. Meanwhile, John got rid of his. By the time they reached the bed, they were both naked. Standing face to face with him, Rodney slid a hand up the side of John's arm, over his shoulder, down to the center of his chest, where he felt John's heart beat like a jack hammer underneath, as fast as Rodney's did. He gave John a shove that sent him tumbling down on the bed and crawled up next to him.

Rodney's eyes were immediately drawn to John's cock. It was the first close look he got. It induced an instant feeling of _What do you think you're _doing_? This is another man's erection!_ and for a moment Rodney lost his nerve.

John saw the hesitation. Glassy-eyed and breathing hard he said, "You don't have to."

That did it. Determined, Rodney closed his hand around John's cock, prompting a startled gasp. He started to stroke, experimentally at first, then adjusting angle and pressure and speed.

"God, that's so--," John breathed, and his head fell back against the pillow. Rodney supposed that he was doing something right.

"Tell me about--" John pleaded, took hold of Rodney's neck, and pulled him down for a short kiss. "Tell me--"

Rodney got it, even though there wasn't much to go on. "A gateship," he said breathlessly. He was getting breathless from doing this to _someone else_. "Imagine a gateship. It's small, cylindrical, not really pretty. But it's _yours_." Rodney licked a spot on John's neck, just below his ear, because it felt like a good idea. John made that desperate sound again. "You're going fast, Mach five fast, into a U-turn. You're pulling a hundred gs and you don't feel a thing," Rodney breathed into his ear, working him faster, harder. "This ship-- It interfaces with your _mind_."

John arched, eyes squeezed shut tightly, and came. "Jesus," he breathed.

Flushed and panting, with his eyes unfocused, John looked absolutely, frighteningly beautiful. Rodney tore his gaze away and wiped his hand on the edge of the sheet.

He was a surprised by the extent to which he was not freaking out about this. He'd just received a blowjob _from a man_, then he'd given said man a spectacular orgasm in return, and instead of running off screaming he let himself be pulled down for a slow-deep-lazy kiss that emptied his mind of the overflow of thoughts that usually cluttered it up. Nothing else, _no one_ else had been able to achieve that in years.

With John's arm around him and his breath warm on Rodney's neck, it was the easiest thing to drift into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

John's muffled voice woke Rodney far too early in the morning. He blinked his eyes open to find Johnny Cash staring down at him. It was a good thing that he hadn't noticed the guy on the wall last night – that would have been creepy.

_Last night._ Rodney rolled onto his back, arms spread wide, and smiled at the ceiling.

Somewhere on the other side of the bedroom door John's voice rose. "--was he thinking? We banned the supplier from the system for a reason. How did he even manage to place the order? How did he plan to get it _paid_ through official company channels?" There was a pause. "Really? That would actually be clever, if he had purchased something that wasn't total crap. I'm going to fire him." Another pause. "Okay, so I'm not going to fire him. Nancy-- Nancy, I'll be there in an hour."

"Trouble?" Rodney asked when John tried to sneak back into the room.

"You're awake." John sat down on the side of the bed, leaned over, and kissed him lightly. "I was going to surprise you with morning sex, but unfortunately--" He sighed an rested his forehead against Rodney's for a moment. "I've got to go to work."

"It's Saturday," Rodney said, as if he usually cared about such things.

"Stupidity doesn't take weekends off."

"Don't I know that. My staff is the living proof."

John grinned at him and vanished into the bathroom.

Rodney drifted in and out of sleep to the sounds of the toilet flushing, the shower running, and John singing 'Do you think I'm sexy' slightly off-key. Rodney muffled his laughter in the pillow. Then he took a keen pleasure in watching John as he crossed the room naked and stopped in front of the wardrobe to select a suit, shirt, and tie.

"You're really gorgeous," Rodney blurted out to his back.

John turned around, looking surprised and pleased. "Thanks," he said. "You're not bad yourself."

Rodney snorted. "Right."

"Rodney," John said. Just that, with an intensity in his voice, and a smouldering look in his eyes that made Rodney want to walk over and--

Except that John started to get dressed, put on his clothes piece by piece, and when he was finished fixing his tie, Rodney could have sworn there was a different person standing in front of him, like he'd just observed a man putting on a mask.

"I'll to leave a key on the kitchen table for you," John said. "I'll be back sometime in the afternoon."

"Okay," Rodney said, because he couldn't very well answer, 'But I want you to take off that suit, _right now_.' Which he really did, for more than one reason.

When John was gone, Rodney pondered his choices: going back to sleep or getting up and taking a trip into DC. He must have fallen asleep in the middle of the process, because suddenly it was ten o'clock.

Rodney got up, left the bed messy as it was, and went through the morning routine. In addition to the promised key, John had left coffee for him. He called a cab and poured himself some coffee. Cup in hand, he went in search of John's list. It wasn't lying folded on the mantlepiece anymore where John had left it the day before. It wasn't anywhere else in the living room or the kitchen, either. John had probably taken it to add more questions. Rodney sat down at the kitchen table and weighed the key in his hand until the driver honked outside.

* * *

God, Rodney hated shopping. It had seemed like a good idea in the morning, since he hadn't gotten any opportunity to buy new stuff for a year. Earth stuff. Hardware. To compensate for Zelenka, who cheerfully cluttered up the official disk space with massive amounts of useless data.

But Rodney had forgotten how much he hated crowds, and stupid salesmen, and the fact that he had to carry everything until he could grab a taxi for the way back.

He wasn't in the best of moods until he saw John's Mercedes in the driveway when the driver halted the taxi. He found John sitting in the living room, with planets floating over his head, and the Ancient hologram device clutched in his hand.

Rodney just watched him for a while and finally said, "I'm back."

John started, and the hologram winked out of existence. "Oh, hey."

"Business problem solved?" Rodney asked, staring at him. John was still in his suit, and _damn_.

"More or less," John answered, staring back. "Went shopping, did you?" He rose from the sofa and slowly moved towards Rodney.

"It's not like I get much chance to do so in Atlantis." Rodney licked his lips, eyes never leaving John's. "Hardware doesn't grow on trees."

"Shouldn't Uncle Sam pay for this?" John's voice was low.

Rodney let John take the shopping bags from him and drop them to the floor. "Actually, the expedition is funded by a number of countries, each of which tries to-- Why are we having this pointless conversation?"

"Beats me," John said.

Rodney took his face in both hands and kissed him, deeply, and for as long as he could manage without reaching dangerously low oxygen levels in his brain. "Come on," he said urgently. "Come on. Get out of this-- this--" He tugged John to the bedroom by his sleeve.

* * *

"I've been thinking," Rodney said, with his arm around John and John's head resting on his shoulder. "Well, admittedly not for the last hour or so," he amended. Rodney couldn't very well have been expected to think with John's body covering his, skin on skin all over, creating sparks of friction that had slowly driven Rodney crazy, until he'd gone over the edge with his tongue still battling John's for control.

The possibility of coherent thought? Asymptotically approaching zero.

John snickered, breathing gusts of air against Rodney's neck. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"You do that," Rodney said graciously. "What I've been meaning to say is, we could fly in to Colorado tomorrow, and go to the SGC on Monday morning."

John's back tensed beneath his hand.

"What?" Rodney asked. "What is it?"

"Rodney." John disentangled himself, sitting up. "I don't think I--" He stopped, looking lost and sad and apologetic.

"No. Don't tell me you-- No." Rodney felt the bottom drop out from under him. "Is this why you didn't want to talk about it before? You _never even considered_ going to Atlantis?"

"Not never," John said, running a hand through his hair. "It's just that-- I can't."

"You can't? _You can't?_ You can't miss this opportunity, that's what you can't!"

Like someone had flicked a switch somewhere, anger broke through. "Rodney, what the hell do you expect? That I just drop everything and jump at the chance to die horribly in another galaxy? I do have a life here, and responsibilities that I can't just abandon!"

Rodney threw the sheets off himself and jumped from the bed. John's suit jacket was lying on the floor, crumpled. He picked it up. "I know that we met barely three days ago," Rodney said as reasonably as he could manage, "but let me go out on a limb here and say that this," he waved the jacket, then threw it in John's face, "isn't you. Tell me that you're happy running your father's business, that it isn't the accident from twenty years ago and a shit load of guilt that keeps your life in this shape. Tell me that, and I'll be gone faster than you can say 'So long, Rodney'."

"You're damn right," John growled. "You don't know me. You don't understand a single--"

"Oh, but I do! I understand far too well. I know family and expectations and guilt. I know how they can _ruin your life_! Nancy, is she any good? Give her a huge raise, a part of the business, whatever, and let her run things!"

"Who are you to--" John advanced on him then, still very naked, but somehow he managed to look threatening as hell.

But Rodney refused to let instinct take over and shrink back. "You-- you goddamn idiot!" he yelled and stabbed a finger to John's chest. "You could be _flying spaceships_! If you let me walk out your door and take this opportunity with me, you'll never forgive yourself. No one is ever going to repeat this offer. I went over everyones' heads as it is!"

John's eyes, which had been burning hot with anger a moment before, suddenly turned cold and clear. "You-- what?"

Damn, Rodney thought. Damn. "I didn't--"

"So if I had decided to go, I might not have been allowed to join your mission anyway? And it didn't occur to you to mention this before?"

Rodney did take a step back then. Two steps. "Once they've seen you, they--"

"You can't be one hundred per cent sure about that!" John yelled. "I really don't need my family to ruin my life, Rodney, you're managing just fine!"

"But I never-- It's the Pegasus galaxy!" Rodney said, defensively. "The City of the Ancients! How can you not want to--"

"Not everyone has to prove to themselves that they're alive!" John spat, and looked shocked an instant later. "Wait, Rodney. I didn't mean to--"

"Right," Rodney said through clenched teeth, his brain far too busy organizing the effects of white hot anger to find appropriate words to express his deep _frustration_. "There's just one thing I want to know: What was _this_?" He gestured between himself and John with the crumpled t-shirt in his hand. "A golden opportunity, because I'll be gone in two weeks anyway?"

"No!" Sheppard moved closer, reaching out for him. "Don't think that I would--"

"Too late," Rodney said, and with his clothes clutched to his chest he stormed out, across the hall, and slammed the door of the guest room behind him.

It took Rodney a while to pull himself together and get dressed. He stuffed everything that was his into the backpack that he found lying in the corner where he'd left it the day before. Finally, he ran out of steam and sank down on the bed. Who was he kidding? He _didn't want_ to go.

Rodney had no idea how long he'd been sitting there staring down at his own hands before John knocked on the door lightly.

"Rodney? Can I come in?" When Rodney didn't answer, he tried again, voice rising, "Rodney, are you still there?"

"Yes. Fine. Come in. Suit yourself," Rodney said and told himself that it wasn't because he couldn't bear to hear John upset like this.

John pushed the door open. He looked about as wrenched as Rodney felt. His eyes fell on the backpack. "Don't go now," he said. "I know that you're going to have to in two weeks time. I'm not going to ask you to stay then."

It should have been a ridiculous statement – he'd known John for _three days_. How could that ever add up to him not going back to Atlantis? Except that Rodney tried the thought out in his head for a moment, what it would be like to have this, to have _John_ there, every day of his life. Even if it was only on Earth. His stomach twisted.

"Let's make a deal," John said, obviously getting back into more comfortable territory at that point. Rodney managed not to make a face. "I get your two weeks on Earth and you get to drag me to the SGC for a tour."

"I-- What? Really? This-- Really?" Rodney needed a moment to wrap his mind around the fact that John was offering him the textbook example of a win-win deal. No way was John still going to want to stay on Earth once he'd _seen_. "You're coming with me to Colorado?"

"I'm coming with you to Colorado. But beyond that I'm not promising anything."

John's face was unreadable – Rodney couldn't decide whether he'd gotten John thinking before, or whether John really just wanted to spend all the time he could get with Rodney.

He couldn't decide which answer he more desperately wanted to be true, either.

"Okay," Rodney said.

"Okay," John echoed.

When John took his hand and pulled him up from the bed, when he put his arms around Rodney and buried his face in Rodney's neck, it seemed that they really were sort of okay, for the moment.

* * *

The flights Rodney booked on his laptop for the next day were hideously expensive, but why should he care? He hadn't spent _any_ money in over a year. Well, okay, he had paid the rent for his apartment in Colorado Springs, but that wasn't much compared to his salary. The apartment would be dusty and cluttered like it had always been. Rodney liked the thought that no matter what, there was a place waiting for him – a place where nothing was ever going to change. Even when he was in another galaxy, he had liked the thought.

"Tomorrow afternoon," Rodney informed John who nodded silently. John went upstairs to make a call, probably to Nancy.

Rodney's vibrant certainty about John's final choice had lost a lot of its momentum. John had seen the hologram device, had mentally connected to it, and still wasn't convinced by the awe-inducing perfection that was Ancient technology. Rodney couldn't be sure that the rest was going to change his mind. If Rodney had learned one thing in the Pegasus galaxy, it was that you couldn't be sure of _anything_.

"How about Chinese for a late dinner?" John asked when he came down the stairs, the phone still in his hand.

"Chinese sounds good," Rodney agreed.

They laid curled around each other on the sofa and watched more Classic Trek, until the delivery guy rang. The food wasn't good, but they abandoned it soon enough, anyway.

This thing between them, it wasn't the same anymore, wasn't as easy as it had been before. Rodney clutched John a little tighter that night, kissed him more urgently, squeezed his shoulder hard enough to leave bruises when John went down on him. And John – John made these desperate noises around his cock, like he wanted to do _more_ but couldn't, like it just wasn't enough, and suddenly he stopped, looked up at Rodney and said, "I want you to fuck me."

Rodney felt his eyes widen. Theoretically, he had known that they were headed this way sometime in the near future, but hearing John say it now sent shivers of anticipation and fear alike down his spine. "I'm-- I don't know. God, yes."

John reached for the nightstand drawer.

Rodney had never been good at following other people's instructions, but in this case it worked out fine. Better than fine. When John said, "Oh, yes, _there_ again," or, "Add another one, I can take it," Rodney did as told, working to evoke more of those needy sounds from John, to make him arch _that way_ again. Rodney couldn't get enough of this, it would _never_ be enough, and when John breathed, "Rodney, stop. I'm going to-- I want--" he didn't think about it, just leaned down, closed his mouth around the head of John's cock, and sucked. With a sound that was close to a wail John arched off the bed and came.

"Rodney," he said, his voice part wonder, part reprimand. "I wanted you to be--"

"Getting there, getting there." Rodney wiped his mouth with one shaking hand and grabbed for a condom with the other.

He watched John heave himself on his hands and knees. Slow, he thought, slow and careful, but then John pushed back, and everything blurred together into _tight_ and _hot_ and _John_ and _too much_. It was sensory overload, data overflow, not going to last, and Rodney shut down, surrendered, and came harder than ever before in his life.

He blinked his eyes open again when John had just finished cleaning them up. "Ngnn," Rodney said.

"That good, huh?" John asked, sliding between the covers next to him, not quite touching.

"I'd have a witty comeback for that, except that my brain is still off-line."

They laid in a slightly uncomfortable silence for long minutes.

"Look, Rodney," John finally said to the ceiling, then he seemed at a loss for words.

"Yes, yes," Rodney answered, because he wasn't suited for awkward in-depth conversation about feelings either, especially after mind-blowing sex. "We're okay." He moved closer to John's warmth and was met halfway.

For a few minutes, Rodney had almost forgotten that they were on a deadline. Then again, he'd almost forgotten his own name. Still, Rodney slept well that night, and this time John _did_ wake him with morning sex that stretched into an entire morning of lazing around in bed.

"I haven't done this in years," John said, coffee cup in hand. "The breakfast-in-bed thing, I mean."

"For a moment there I was worried," Rodney said around a mouthful of toast. "What hope is there for the rest of us if _you_ can't get laid?"

John whacked Rodney upside the head, Rodney gave John a shove that made him spill half his coffee, one thing led to another, and they almost didn't make it to the airport in time.

All Rodney could think about during the flight was the feel of John's skin under his. John's hand lying – just lying – on the arm rest next to his turned out to be the worst kind of temptation. Rodney had never ever contemplated joining the mile-high club before, but he seriously did now. It was a blessing, in a way, because otherwise Rodney would have needed to worry about time ticking by, and about choices that possibly weren't going to be in his favor.

John jumped him as soon as the front door of Rodney's apartment closed behind them.

"You, too? Thank god," Rodney mumbled against his mouth. It was good to know that he hadn't been the only one with a one track mind that day.

* * *

"Is there anything else you want to tell me about the SGC?" John asked from the passenger seat, his foot tapping restlessly.

Rodney glanced at him from the corner of his eye. "No. They're going to take one look at you and you'll be hired."

Predictably, John didn't answer. He followed Rodney from the car silently a few minutes later.

The guards at the security gate made a phone call, and then John and Rodney were led into an interrogation room. A guard positioned himself in the corner and watched them grimly for the next ten minutes.

Elizabeth hadn't even closed the door behind her when she started yelling, "Rodney, tell me you didn't! How much did you tell him?" with an impressive amount of anger coloring her tone – impressive in the sense that Rodney had never seen her this angry before.

"Everything, of course. Watch this," Rodney said and gestured at John, who sighed and pulled the Ancient image projector from his pocket.

"Oh," Elizabeth said. "_Wow._"

Rodney noted gleefully how her anger evaporated on the trail of the word. "When he used it the first time, it worked just as well. He didn't even need training! Do you see? _Do you see?_"

"Yes," she said, tearing her gaze away from the hologram. "Yes. Let me speak to General Landry."

John put the projector down and cleared his throat. "Just for the record: I haven't actually agreed to join your mission yet."

"Really?" she asked incredulously, then added, "Sorry. It's just-- You simply cannot grasp the impact this is going to have. But of course it will be your own decision whether you join us or not."

Rodney crossed his arms. "Personally, I think anyone who doesn't want to go to the Pegasus galaxy is a brain-damaged moron."

"Yes, you've made that quite clear before," John said dryly.

"Oh, Elizabeth. Tell the general that John is really good with numbers, too," Rodney added brightly. "Observe. Twenty-two thousand and twenty-seven?"

"Prime," John said dutifully. "You do realize that this looks kind of rehearsed?"

"Right." Rodney pointed a finger at Elizabeth. "You try it."

"I-- I don't know any--" At Rodney's impatient gesture, she offered, "Um, seven thousand seven hundred and one?"

"Not prime," the guard in the corner said. At Rodney's incredulous look he added, "Divisible by three," with a shrug.

If John's muffled noises were actually disguised laughter, Rodney might just have to kill him later.

"I'll be sure to include 'good with numbers' in my talk with the general," Elizabeth said, smiling encouragingly at John, and left.

Half an hour later the math-whiz guard led them to the elevator, down into the mountain, and through the corridors to Landry's office, where Elizabeth and Landry were waiting.

The general stood and shook John's hand. "Mister Sheppard," he said and, "Doctor McKay, you're dismissed."

"But I--"

"Get out of my office. Now."

Rodney recognized the tone as the one that took no prisoners, exchanged a glance with John, and went in search for the mess. No matter how often he came here, Rodney would never get a hang of the layout of this place.

Three agonizingly long hours later Rodney was desperately in need of a distraction. Landry's assistant-slash-gate tech, the one with a name so common that Rodney had never been able to remember it, was likely to deck Rodney if he asked for the status of the meeting one more time. What the hell were they talking about? Was the general going to scare John off for good? Knowing Landry, it was entirely possible that he would.

The staff in the mess refused to give him any more coffee. Because Rodney really didn't have anywhere else to go, he went for a tour around the labs. He could get few good laughs out of that, at least. His former colleagues (didn't the _former_ have a nice ring here) were as stupid as Rodney remembered and still as frightened of him as they should be.

Well, not all of them. Rodney found Sam Carter in one of the smaller labs on the lower level.

"Colonel Carter," he greeted. "Hiding from me?"

"Hey, McKay," she answered, not looking up. "Why would I?"

"Habit?" Rodney guessed with a superior smile.

"I hear you picked up an ATA gene carrier off the street," Sam said, entirely focused on the circuit board that she was poking inexpertly with tweezers under a giant magnifying glass. "And that he's quite the looker, too."

"Oh, don't get your hopes up," Rodney blurted out.

Sam looked up at him, eyebrows raised.

"Uh, never mind," Rodney said, flushing.

If Sam hadn't put two and two together before, she did with the blush. "This is weird," she said. "I heard that the guy was smart."

"Oh, ha ha." Rodney couldn't believe that he had ever found Sam endearing. "He's rich, too," he pointed out.

She rolled her eyes, but there was a smile tugging on the corners of her mouth. "Only you, McKay."

The phone on her desk rang. "Carter. Yes, sir, he's here-- Yes, right away." She hung up. "General Landry wants to see you immediately."

"Oh, joy," Rodney said. "I can't wait."

"Have fun," Sam wished heartlessly. "By the way, when am I going to get my AHP back?"

"Your what?"

"Ancient Hologram Projector?"

"Later. Maybe," Rodney said dismissively over his shoulder and walked out.

It turned out the general wasn't pleased with Rodney going against his orders. What a surprise. Rodney watched John through the observation window while the general was going on about 'unauthorized removal of restricted technology from a military base', and even mentioned jail at some point. John was talking to assistant-slash-gate tech, or rather he was talked at by the guy. The tech was gesturing animatedly, and John looked a little like he needed rescue. Which arrived on cue in the form of Cameron Mitchell. Even when Rodney hadn't been gay yet, strictly speaking, he had noticed that Mitchell was really sort of hot. After what looked like a far too friendly introduction, Mitchell grabbed John by the elbow to lead him away from the tech, and out of Rodney's line of sight. Unexpectedly, Rodney felt the burning desire to follow them, punch Mitchell in the face, and snatch John back.

While Landry was elaborating about the 'violation of the non-disclosure agreement' and serious cases of treason, Rodney subtly tried to roll his chair a little closer to the window to get John back in sight. Finally, the general congratulated Rodney on the good job he'd done.

"What?" Rodney said, totally thrown for a loop.

Landry smiled one of his smiles that wasn't cheerful at all. "He might very well be the person who is going to tip the scale in our favor in the Pegasus galaxy. You were right, we need him."

"I-- Uh. Yes, of course," Rodney said, collecting himself.

"You're free to show him everything, just convince him to join us. You're dismissed. Oh, and return these to Colonel Carter's lab, will you?"

The general piled up several pieces of Ancient technology on Rodney's arms. "Okay," Rodney said. Landry had a certain way of ensuring that 'no' just wasn't an answer you could consider. Thankfully, the effect only had a limited range.

Rodney dropped the Ancient technology in the protesting gate tech's lap and went after John and Mitchell. When Rodney found them in the mess, they were talking about some sports thing over coffee – it involved linebackers and blitz-defense, so it was probably football.

"Did I ever mention that we brought a gateship with us to Earth?" Rodney said without preamble.

John put his cup down so quickly that coffee spilled onto the table. "What? Really? Can we--"

"Right now, yes."

John rose faster than Rodney could say, "Let's go."

"It was good meeting you, Sheppard," Mitchell said, looking amused, and mock-saluted Rodney. "McKay."

"Yeah, whatever," Rodney said, waved back half-heartedly, and steered John towards the exit.

* * *

The small hangar that held the gateship was buzzing with activity.

John froze in the doorway, staring at the ship in awe. Rodney immediately spotted three good reasons to shout at two scientists for their exceptional stupidity.

"Alright," Rodney yelled. "Everybody get away from the ship."

Fortunately the people of the SGC knew Rodney, or they were pulled along by someone who did. The area was clear within a minute.

John laid a hand on the hull. "How old is it again?"

"Ten thousand years, give or take a few hundred."

Rodney could see John swallow hard at that.

As soon as they stepped inside, the ship lit up like a Christmas tree. John hadn't even made an effort to activate it. This was Rodney's cue to swallow hard.

"Oh. Oh my--" John breathed and made a beeline for the pilot's seat. He sat down and closed his eyes. The holographic screens lit up immediately, displaying information about engine status, energy levels, scan results of their surroundings including life signs, and a number of other things Rodney _had never seen before_.

Through the front window eight scientists were staring at John, three of them with their mouths open. Rodney suspected that their expressions were mirrored on his face.

"Oh," John said and opened his eyes. "We're invisible now," he said, grinning like a loon. Then he grabbed Rodney by the shirt, pulled him down and kissed him, complete with tongue and everything.

"Hmph," Rodney said in protest.

"We're _invisible_," John pointed out, and Rodney couldn't really argue with that.

"Do you know how long it's taken us to find the cloak? A month! And only because we were looking for it after we found a reference in the--"

John kissed him again. "She speaks to me," he said delightedly.

Rodney couldn't help but laugh and feel a little giddy. "There is a lot more than just spaceships waiting in the Pegasus galaxy."

John laughed. "The words _just_ and _spaceship_ should never be uttered so closely together."

* * *

On their way back to the apartment John was eerily quiet. He stared out the window for most of the drive, and in a herculean effort Rodney managed not to push him. He still didn't push when John jumped out of the car before it had even come to a full stop in the driveway. In the end, Rodney didn't need to push. John started pacing the living room like a caged animal. He was still a bit wild eyed, high-strung, riding on endorphins, it seemed.

"You knew," he accused and took Rodney by the shoulders, shaking him a little. "You knew that once I set foot on a gateship, I'd be hooked. And you. I can't just let you-- Not without me. You knew!"

John kissed him, and kissed him, and kissed him. For the first time in his life Rodney understood why people cried from happiness. He almost felt like crying now.

The next day Nancy gave her agreement to take over _Sheppard Utilities_. Rodney could hear her voice rise over the phone, even from the other end of the room. She fired questions at John that he couldn't answer truthfully, and John tried to remind her that he still had to work out the details with his father.

That night, John boarded a plane to Hawaii.

Rodney spent the next three days on edge. Landry didn't even try to send him off on vacation again, which was probably meant as a punishment. The general kept him busy with countless files on utterly moronic scientists who were applying for positions on Atlantis. It was amazing how many of them left their interview crying into the sleeve of their lab coat. Landry insisted that Rodney hire three people, but in all practicality, it was the choice between orange juice and lemonade.

Finally, after a _long_ three days, Rodney collected John at the airport. There were shadows under John's eyes, but he looked relaxed. Possibly more relaxed than Rodney had ever seen him. Admittedly, 'ever' still consisted of only a week in total, if he counted generously.

"I'm not going to pack a single damn suit," John said against Rodney's temple.

"I-- um, I missed you." It was good to say it out loud, because Rodney really had.

Maybe he imagined John's very quiet, "Me, too," but he was pretty sure that he didn't.

During the negotiations and briefings at the SGC that followed, John gave several conditions for his joining the mission. For one, he requested military training so that he could join one of the offworld teams. "I'm not going to be your glorified on/off switch for Ancient technology," he said. Which was a) a very smart move, and b) a pity, because Rodney wasn't going to get to keep John around the labs and in relative safety.

Landry and Elizabeth were all too happy to meet all of John's demands. Well, except for the one that involved the Ferris Wheel.

For five days John stayed with Rodney at his old apartment, and Rodney suddenly had an incentive to finish work at reasonable hours. When John's last meeting of the day was over, he swung by the lab, and they went home together, stopping on the way for take-out food, which never got eaten while it was still hot.

Carson was more than freaked out by Rodney's cheerful mood and occasional dreamy smiles. It was an enjoyable side order to the even more enjoyable main course.

Finally, John boarded another plane and spent seven days in company meetings, wrapping up the take-over, or at home packing boxes for storage. Apparently he'd had some really useful help with organizing everything. When John turned up on Rodney's doorstep one day early with three duffel bags and a wide grin, and Rodney asked him, "Everything sorted out?" John stepped close to hug him and answered, "I kissed Gladys goodbye. I really did."

Rodney grinned and kissed him hello.

* * *

John settled down in the pilot's seat of the gateship under Rodney's supposedly watchful eye. By official agreement the ship was John's to take up.

"So, this is it," John said with an air of finality.

"Yep, going to the Pegasus galaxy." Rodney looked up from the tablet he was calculating the ship's energy output on. "You're not regretting your decision, are you?"

John held Rodney's gaze for a long moment, with a smile lurking around the corners of mouth. He laid his hands on the ship's controls. They lit up obediently. "Are you kidding me?"

Rodney turned back to the tablet, smiling to himself.

"Gateship one, this is flight. The Daedalus has cleared its hangar for you. You have a go."

"Flight, this is--" John stopped and deactivated the comm. "These ships usually go through the stargate, right?"

"Yes!" Rodney sighed. Sometimes John had the attention span of a five year old. "How many times do I have to explain it to you? We can't _gate_ the ship back! Surely you--"

John activated the comm again. "Flight, this is-- Puddlejumper one. Understood. We're off."

There was a slight pause. "Puddlejumper one, have fun."

"Let's see what else you've named in the Pegasus galaxy," John said and fired up the engines.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Rodney asked indignantly. "It's a ship that goes through the gate. Gateship. Perfectly logical choice of a name."

The ship lifted off the ground. John's eyes lit up the same way they had when he'd first set foot on it.

"Screw logical choices," John said and flashed Rodney a genuine smile.

_Stun him and drag him with you if you must,_ the McKay from the alternate universe had said, and, _You really, really need him._

Rodney supposed that he did.

* * *

  
_  
Off to face the world again  
Past the bedroom mirror  
Ignorance is bliss, they say  
It couldn't be much clearer_   


Imagining what might have been  
Thinking it could still be  
All the lost years in between  
Still a sucker for a dream

You might be an oil tycoon  
You might be a Cobb cartoon  
You might be a Gershwin tune  
You might be, but you're not

You might be an eagle's call  
You might be a nation's fall  
You might be the Albert hall

You might be, but you're not

  
from Nik Kershaw's "You Might"


End file.
